


Buck Is My Warrior

by elisela



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Christopher is buck's number one fan, Eddie loves how Chris loves Buck, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, Straight up fluff, The Family We Make
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:56:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23473567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/pseuds/elisela
Summary: “We’ll be filming a special edition of American Ninja Warrior,” Troy announces after the introduction to the current contestant ends, “focused on our brave first responders. Go to our website to find out more details and how to submit your videos.”Oh.“Buddy,” Eddie says, “I don’t really know if that’s my thing.”Christopher looks at him, then down at his feet and mumbles something.“Didn’t catch that, kiddo,” Eddie says, reaching out and pressing two fingers under Chris’ chin to tilt his face back up.“I said,” Christopher says, “I want to nominate Buck.”
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 84
Kudos: 1468





	Buck Is My Warrior

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Мой герой](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29084283) by [dancingmind (aurora22)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora22/pseuds/dancingmind), [FoxAlica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxAlica/pseuds/FoxAlica)



> WELL. I hope you're happy, buddie discord.

They’re in the middle of cooking dinner when Christopher peeks around the doorframe, catching Eddie’s eye. Eddie smiles at him and beckons him in, not wanting to interrupt Buck’s story, but Christopher shakes his head no, gives Eddie a look that he can’t decipher, and shuffles back away.

Strange. His son has never been shy around Buck. 

He lets Buck finish, laughing in all the right places, then excuses himself to check on Chris, squeezing Buck’s shoulder as he passes. “And don’t burn the garlic bread, this time,” he says, chuckling as Buck turns to scowl at him.

“Maybe someone _else_ , you know, who actually _lived here_ , could manage to make something for dinner once in a while,” Buck shoots back. 

Eddie holds up his hands, surrendering. “None of us want that,” he says. “Chris and I lived off of sodium and preservatives until you came and saved us, Buck.” He ducks the oven mitt that goes flying in his direction, laughing, and makes his way down the hallway to Chris’ room. 

Chris is sitting at his desk, his tablet in front of him. His headphones are in and although Eddie can’t see the screen, he notes the way that the tip of Chris’ tongue sticks out in concentration as he slowly writes something in a notebook.

Eddie leans over and pulls his headphones off, earning himself a scowl. “Hey buddy,” he says. “What’s going on?”

Christopher bats a hand at him. “Not so loud,” he says. “Dad, close the door.” Eddie, not really sure where this secretive attitude is coming from, frowns, but does as his son asks. Chris turns the tablet towards him, and presses play. A YouTube video fills the screen, and Eddie sees a competitor for American Ninja Warrior warming up on the screen. They watch it together, often with Buck, so Eddie’s not sure why Chris is watching it holed up in his room instead of in the living room. Then--

“We’ll be filming a special edition of American Ninja Warrior,” Troy announces after the introduction to the current contestant ends, “focused on our brave first responders. Go to our website to find out more details and how to submit your videos.”

 _Oh_. 

“Buddy,” Eddie says, “I don’t really know if that’s my thing.”

Christopher looks at him, then down at his feet and mumbles something. 

“Didn’t catch that, kiddo,” Eddie says, reaching out and pressing two fingers under Chris’ chin to tilt his face back up.

“I said,” Christopher says, “I want to nominate _Buck_.” Eddie must be silent for too long, thinking a little too much about his sweet, _good_ son and how much he loves Buck, and how much _Eddie_ loves that he loves Buck, because he adds, “but I can make a video for you, too.”

“No,” Eddie says, snapping out of his all-too-frequent mooning over his son and best friend. “No, Chris, I think it’s a great idea to nominate Buck. What do we have to do?”

“I don’t know,” Chris says. “You said I couldn’t use google without you.”

“Alright, let’s figure it out,” he says, reaching for the tablet. They navigate to the website and read the requirements together, which seem simple enough: a form to fill out and a 2 - 3 minute video showcasing the nominee and why they deserve to be on the show. Chris takes notes, writing down a list of people he wants to be on the video, and has Eddie pull up a few audition videos on YouTube so he can see what other people do.

When Buck calls them in to dinner, Chris carefully puts his notebook under a stack of books and gives Eddie a pleading look. “Don’t tell him,” he whispers as Eddie opens the door.

“Why not?” Eddie whispers back.

“He might get his heart hurt,” Chris says. “I don’t want Bucky’s heart to hurt.”

Over the next week, Eddie helps his kid sneak around and get all the footage he wants for his video. They get Bobby to talk about how much Buck has grown, Athena to recount the first time she worked with Buck, and Eddie enlists Chim and Hen to take a few videos of Buck working out so he doesn’t feel like the only creep in the station. And then he’s run out of excuses, so he helps Chris set up a little area in the yard to film themselves one Thursday while Buck is still at work. 

“You sure, buddy?” he asks as Chris lowers himself into a chair. “We have enough, you don’t need to talk about this.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “I can do it, Dad.”

He takes a deep breath. He knows--he _knows_ \--that if Chris goes through with this, that Buck will be chosen by the producers. Pushing aside the fact that Buck is what they’d want in the first place: young and slightly cocky, but earnest and good all at the same time (and _beautiful_ , his brain supplies helpfully), Eddie doesn’t think there’s a show producer on earth who would hear about what he went through before and during tsunami and pass him by. “Chris,” he pushes on, “I just want you to know that if they choose Buck, you’ll have to talk about this again,” he says. “So if it’s too hard-”

“Dad,” Chris says, irritably, “I said I can do it.”

Eddie, who lived through months of Christopher’s nightmares, and is aware of Buck’s still lingering guilt, doesn’t know if _he_ can do it, but he nods and steadies his phone, framing Chris in the shot and pressing record. “Alright kiddo,” he says, “tell me about the tsunami.”

Buck is picked.

 _Of course_ Buck is picked.

Eddie gets the call five days after they submit the video. He’s in the middle of a shift, trying and failing not to laugh at some poor sucker who got his foot stuck in a drainage pipe while serenading a girl who clearly doesn’t return his affections outside her house, and he spots the missed call when they climb back into the truck. 

Buck, ever the nosy one, looks over his shoulder. “What’s up?” he asks. “It’s not Chris, is it?”

Eddie lets the message transcript load, and swipes off the screen as soon as he sees the words “ninja warrior” appear. “Nah,” he says, shoving his phone into his pocket. “It’s nothing. Eye doctor.”

Buck narrows his eyes at him, pulls on his headset, and waits for Eddie to do the same. “You had an eye appointment two months ago,” he says.

“For Chris,” Eddie lies. 

“That’s next Wednesday,” Buck says, and Eddie gapes at him. 

“What?”

“Don’t you remember? Wednesday at noon.” Buck frowns, then his eyes widen and he starts to laugh. “Uh, actually, I might have forgotten to tell you about that,” he says. “The school nurse mentioned that he’d been complaining about his head hurting when he reads, so I made him an eye appointment.”

Buck’s cheeks are flushed, and he’s looking at Eddie a little apprehensively.

There are approximately thirty-seven things Eddie wants to say to him, ranging from _I could have done that myself_ to _I’m not sure how I could ever parent without you_ to _is this how you say you love me_ but what he really does is roll his eyes at Hen and Chimney, who are making no secret about staring at them and nudging each other. “I work Wednesday,” is all he ends up saying.

“I don’t,” Buck says quietly. 

If asked, Eddie will readily admit to Buck being Christopher’s second parent. He is in no way ashamed of how often he relies on Buck to help guide Chris as he grows, to do the pick-ups and drop-offs when Eddie can’t, or even just when Eddie needs another hour to himself before having to slip back into parent mode. He needs Buck around to pull him out of his moods and to reject the notion that Eddie is constantly failing as a father; he needs Buck around so his kid eats something other than cereal and frozen chicken nuggets. Furthermore, he knows that Buck needs them around, to have someone who makes sure his uniforms are clean, to listen to his collection of inane trivia, and to keep him from sinking into loneliness after hard shifts.

But until now, it’s always been Buck taking direction from Eddie. He’s never just gone ahead and taken care of things on his own, and Eddie … well, Eddie likes it. A lot. Maybe too much. So he just shrugs and says, “Alright then,” and tries to stomp down the swell of his heart that beats _family family family_ before Hen and Chim can see it on his stupid face and allows his traitorous mind to spend the rest of the ride back to the station in a daydream about Buck just being there, _forever_. 

Buck doesn’t bring up the message again.

“Chris, I am begging you to calm down,” Eddie pleads. 

“I am calm,” Chris says, the frantic speed at which he’s coloring a sharp contrast to his words. “I _need_ to finish, Dad. Go away.”

Eddie looks around the kitchen table and sighs. He’s pretty sure that, washable ink or not, that red marker is never going to come off. The table is littered with the remains of Christopher’s entire art supply bin; glue smeared around and glitter on every visible surface. Eddie hates himself for how quickly he caved on the no glitter rule after Chris broke out the puppy eyes. As calm as Chris claims to be, he’s knocked over two jars of glitter and a bucket of crayons in the last two minutes, and Eddie’s not sure he can deal with it anymore. 

“There,” Chris says, just as the front door opens and Buck’s familiar voice calls out. Chris pulls a blank piece of construction paper over his finished product, pushes back from the table, and Eddie cringes as clouds of glitter rain down, all over his kitchen floor. 

“Stay right there,” he tells Chris. “I am not letting glitter invade this house.”

“Whoa,” Buck says, stopping in the doorway, eyebrows raised. “That must be some art project, buddy.”

“My best yet,” Chris says, leaning against the table. 

For a while, he and Buck just stare at Chris--green and blue marker strokes cover most of his left arm, and somehow, his face, but the glitter--oh god, the _glitter_ Eddie thinks. 

“So,” Buck says finally, “how are we doing this?”

“I was considering bringing out the fire hose,” Eddie admits.

“To clean the kitchen?”

“No, to put out the fire,” Eddie says. “I think we have to consider the kitchen as a total loss.”

Christopher giggles. “Ms. Garcia uses a roller,” he says. “And a dryer sheet.”

Buck nods decisively. “Well if there’s anyone I trust to know how to clean up glitter, it’s your art teacher,” he says. “I’ll get the vacuum for the floor.”

Eddie sighs, allows himself to wonder how he had so quickly lost control of Christopher, and shakes his head as he heads into the laundry room to grab what he needed. “Let’s get this done, buddy,” he says, brandishing the lint roller as he returns. “And think about what we should order for dinner, I think your old man’s too tired to cook after this.”

“Buck’s not,” Chris says, but he holds his arms out obligingly. “I want pancakes.”

“It’s not Buck’s job to cook for you,” Eddie says, and Chris frowns at him. 

“Dad, Buck _loves_ pancakes,” he whines. “And I want it to be _perfect_ when we tell him.”

“ _You_ love Buck’s pancakes,” Eddie responds, trying not to put too much pressure on Chris as he swipes the lint roller over him. “Buck loves cheeseburgers, dumplings, and pizza. Pick one.”

“Buck likes cooking for me,” Chris says, “it makes him happy.”

“Nice try,” Eddie says.

“He’s not wrong.” Buck’s in the doorway when Eddie looks up, a gentle smile on his face. “But I’m not feelin’ pancakes tonight little man, sorry.”

“Burgers, then,” Chris says. “Don’t forget the milkshakes.”

“We won’t,” Eddie says. “Or Buck’s onion rings.”

“Aw,” Buck says, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks, “you guys know me so well.”

They start to clean up in earnest, and by the time the kitchen, and Chris, are glitter-free and Buck is changed out of his work uniform, the burgers have been delivered and Chris is clearly hyped. Eddie watches Buck lavish attention and affection on his son out of the corner of his eye, pushes away the slight envy he feels over the whole thing, and waits for Chris to get the announcement out. For once, Chris might be more patient than he is, because he waits until all the food is gone and Buck suggests an after-dinner walk to clear his throat dramatically.

“Buck,” he says, “I have something really important to tell you.”

Eddie sees Buck shoot him a look before focusing all his attention on Chris. “I’m excited to hear it, buddy,” he says. He’s quiet, waiting patiently while Chris retrieves his picture from where Eddie had hidden it in the junk drawer during the clean-up. When he comes back, he accepts the paper gently, as if it’s a precious document that he’ll save forever (Eddie’s pretty sure it’ll be put into a frame as soon as Buck finds one). “Wow,” he says after taking it in. “Chris, this is really good. You must have worked on this for a long time!”

Christopher is practically vibrating with excitement, and Eddie isn’t sure how Buck misses it. “Bucky,” he says, “it’s real. You’re a real ninja. I signed you up.”

“You--” Buck looks up, finally, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Dad, tell him,” Chris says. He looks breathless with excitement. 

Eddie reaches up, rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “They’re doing a first responders course,” he says. “Chris made a video of you and sent it in. They want you to be on the show, Buck.”

There’s silence, and for a moment Eddie is worried that Buck is about to say no and absolutely crush his son’s heart, but then--Buck whoops and breaks out into a smile so bright that Eddie thinks he might have to shield his eyes. “I can’t believe you did that!” he exclaims, standing up, pulling Christopher into his arms and spinning him around. “Wow, Chris, that’s _amazing_. They really want me? Can I see the video?”

When Chris presses his cheek against Buck’s and whispers something in his ear that makes Buck smile even brighter, Eddie has to remind himself how to breathe. 

The next morning, Chris presents Buck with a list after breakfast. “I wrote some things you can do to get ready,” he says, setting it down in front of Buck. Eddie can see that Chris is pretending like it’s not a big deal, but the way he looks at Buck so openly loving and hopeful makes Eddie turn away for a moment.

“These are great ideas,” Buck says through a mouthful of food. “Where’d you come up with them?”

“May helped me look at pictures and videos,” Chris says, and Eddie turns back to catch Buck’s eye and mouths _instagram_. “She helped me write what would help you.”

Eddie had helped make the final version of the list and he had to admit, for an eight year old who didn’t know much about fitness, it was actually pretty good. Training for a ninja course was going to be much different than training for his job, and Chris had put real thought into how he could help Buck win. Because for as often as Eddie had reminded him over the last two weeks that it was for charity and that Buck surely wouldn’t be upset if he didn’t win, Chris would be. His son was on a mission not just to show Buck to the world, but to present him as a winner.

“Alright, first order of business,” Buck says--Eddie makes a face at him because _really_ , does he need to eat with his mouth wide open?--”find a playground with monkey bars. Hmm.” He looks over at Chris and grins. “I think I know just the place, _and_ just the person to help me out. Go get dressed, Superman, it’s training day.”

Over the next several weeks, Eddie watches Buck do nothing _but_ train. His world becomes work and running ninja courses, and it’s not like Eddie doesn’t want him to enjoy himself and to do whatever he can to become the best, but--he _misses_ him. He misses movie nights, because Buck’s too exhausted now to do anything but flop on the couch and fall asleep on the rare nights he comes over. 

Eddie is trying not to mope. He’s really not.

But he does.

It’s ridiculous and stupid because he still sees the guy at least 50 hours a week, but they’re not the same.

It takes him a long time to realize that what he misses isn’t just his friend, but his co-parent. He misses watching Buck help Christopher with his homework, and the way they both toss out random bits of trivia while riding in the car. He misses coming home and seeing them out in the backyard, finishing up some messy science experiment or running around, their faces streaked with dirt. He misses the counter full of baked goods that happens every few weeks when Christopher swears up and down that he really doesn’t know which cookie recipe he wants to try, can’t they just make them all?

But he sees that Buck is still trying. He still comes over a few times a week for dinner (only now instead of pizza, Buck’s making them much healthier food), still texts and calls and FaceTimes with Chris, and invites them to come work out at the ninja gym, which Eddie almost regrets agreeing to do because now that Chris has gotten a taste of that, he doesn’t want to leave. He had been delighted with how Buck helped him navigate the course and with how Buck ran through it again after, Christopher dangling off his back and laughing.

And if Eddie stares a little _too_ long at the sliver of skin that peeks out from between Buck’s joggers and t-shirt as he hangs upside down, well. He’ll probably deny that to his dying day, but he’ll never forget it. And he refuses to even think about the funny way his heart beats when he watches the way Christopher that watches him.

Christopher is bouncing off the walls. Eddie loves his son--he _adores_ him, he would die for him and kill for him, if he had to--but if he doesn't settle down soon, Eddie is going to lose his goddamn mind. 

Today is the day.

Not like he could have forgotten that, with his kid reminding him every forty-three seconds since the sun began to rise. 

“Do you think he’ll like my shirt?”

“He’ll love your shirt, buddy,” he says.

“Maybe we should have gotten Buck a ninja shirt.”

“Chris, the producers said the contestants needed to wear their station t-shirts,” Eddie says. Again. He thinks this is the sixteenth time they’ve had this conversation. He reminds himself that Chris is just excited, and honestly, he’s glad. He loves that Chris has started this for Buck, that he’s been patient while Buck has been training and he knows that Chris is probably going to explode with happiness when he sees Buck run the course tonight. 

Buck has always looked at his son like he hung the moon, but Eddie is pretty sure that to Chris, Buck is the whole damn solar system. 

“Dad.”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Do you really think he’ll like my shirt?’

Eddie resists the urge to beat his head against the steering wheel. 

The producers run them through how the day will go, show them around the recreational areas, and hand everyone a schedule. Buck’s looking nervous, and Eddie almost melts when Christopher slides right up to him and starts cuddling him.

The kid has no shame.

Eddie kind of wishes that he didn’t, either.

“I just don’t know what to say,” Buck says quietly. “They gave me the questions and I--Eddie, I don’t know what to tell them about the tsunami. I can’t talk about losing Chris, I just can’t. And don’t say I didn’t lose him, Eddie. We both know I did.”

Before Eddie can say anything, Chris tugs on Buck’s arm. “Bucky,” he says. “You don’t have to talk about it. I will. I’ll sit with you.”

Eddie likes the idea immediately--it was bad enough that Chris had to talk about it on camera when he was around, and he’s been dreading having to listen to Chris speak to a national audience. This is what he’s disliked about the process all along, knowing that the very things that probably put Buck right to the front of the list were the things that Eddie would rather just keep to himself. He loves his boys, and the idea of the worst day of their lives being brought up just to increase ratings doesn’t sit well with him.

So if they could be together for it … well, it makes Eddie feel a lot better. He knows he’s supposed to stay with Christopher whenever he’s being filmed, but he almost wonders if he can excuse himself from the room if Buck’s there.

Chris may not have a problem telling the world why Buck is his hero, but Eddie isn’t sure if he can handle hearing how close he came to losing his son again.

“Dad dropped me off with Buck and we were going to go to the movies, but Buck said it was a nice day and we should be outside. He was going to take me on the ferris wheel and win me one of those big bears.”

“What happened when the tsunami hit?”

“Buck saved me. He got us to the firetruck and then he went to save other people. I got bumped and fell into the water, but I heard Buck yell, and I knew he was going to find me again. Buck will always save me. He’s my hero.”

Chris is clinging to Buck. Full-on, starfish clinging, and Eddie hates himself for letting this happen. He knew that Chris would have a hard time talking about it to people he didn’t know, and Eddie should have been a better father and put his foot down.

“Stop,” Buck says. He’s not even looking at Eddie; his eyes are closed, one arm holding Chris up and one gently cradling his head, but Eddie knows he’s talking to him. “Stop beating yourself up, Eddie, he’ll be alright.”

Christopher’s muffled “yeah,” is a dagger through Eddie’s heart. Eddie hears him breathe deep a few times before he pulls away from Buck and wiggles down. “I’m fine now,” he informs them, pushing his glasses up. 

Buck rests his hand on the top of Christopher’s hair and messes with his curls for a moment. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, then I better go out there and warm-up,” Buck says. “You’ll be in the front row, right, buddy?”

Chris grins up at him. “I get to be on the side,” he says. “So you can find me if you need me.”

Eddie fusses over his son for another minute after Buck leaves, and for the first time in weeks, Christopher tolerates it. They’re just about to go get dinner from the small cafeteria on site when a producer comes back over and asks for a moment with just Christopher on camera. “We just want him to talk about how excited he is to see Buck out there,” she says with a soft smile. 

Chris doesn’t wait for permission; he’s back into the chair they had set out for him earlier within a few seconds, staring expectantly at the camera. 

“How are you feeling about seeing Buck out on the course? Remember to start with ‘I feel’, please.”

“I feel really happy,” Christopher says, “like my heart is a firework. I love Bucky. He’s like my other dad. I wish he was for real.”

Eddie freezes. The sound that comes out of his mouth is not one that he’s proud of, and for a fleeting second he hopes for a sinkhole to appear underneath his feet, but he forces himself to ask for a moment from the producers. “Chris,” he says, once they’re alone, “what do you mean by that?”

Chris shrugs.

“No, I’m going to need some words,” Eddie says. “Come on, Chris. Talk to me.”

His son peers up at him. “Are you mad?” When Eddie shakes his head no, Chris says, “I want Buck to be my real dad, too. Thomas says he’s not my real dad because you’re not married.”

Thomas, no doubt, is still in the single-digit age range, but Eddie is pretty sure he doesn’t care for the kid. He also has no clue how to respond, so all that comes out of his mouth is a very eloquent, “uh.”

This is not what he expected to deal with today.

At all.

“Dad,” Christopher whispers. Eddie looks down at him, at his hopeful, sweet face, and he’d give the child anything he wanted at that moment, he loves him so much. “I love Buck. And Buck loves you,” Chris says quietly. “We’re just waiting on you, kid.”

And Eddie knows—he _knows—_ that he looks like the world’s biggest idiot, not because he’s sitting there with his mouth hanging open, but because his eight year old just had to spell out his love life for him.

“Uh,” he says again, and Christopher rolls his eyes and goddamn it, Buck has got to stop teaching his kid these things.

“Dad,” Christopher says, “Dad, just tell Buck that you love him.”

“It’s not that simple, buddy,” he says, kneeling down to get on his son’s level, brushing a hand through his hair. 

“Why not?”

There’s a tiny bubble of hysterical laughter that threatens to come out, and Eddie clamps his mouth shut, hard, not wanting Chris to think he’s making fun of him. _Why not_? Eddie can list all the reasons why it’s not simple, starting _and_ ending with that fact that he’s a coward who hides behind his son as an excuse to be content with what he has. Why not? Because Eddie cannot face the fact that he might lose someone _again_.

Why not.

Why not. 

Wait, did Chris say that Buck loves him?

“Okay,” he hears himself say. “Okay Chris, I’ll tell him.”

“Eddie!”

Buck’s frantic voice is one of the first things he hears when he steps outside with Chris. Eddie’s kept him inside until it’s almost time for Buck to start, knowing that it’s getting late and that his son still tires easily. Eddie turns towards the sound of his name, ready to give a pep talk, and--

“What the hell, Buck,” he says, laughing. “Dude, what did you do?”

“There _might_ have been an accident with some ketchup,” Buck says, grimacing. “Eddie, what am I supposed to do?”

The front of Buck’s LAFD t-shirt, kept so pristine until that moment, has four pale pink, smeared drops on it. Clearly, Buck’s attempt at cleaning it hadn’t gone well.

“Turn back time and wear your black shirt?” Eddie suggests, laughing. Buck groans, and Eddie takes pity on him. “Take the shirt off, Buck,” he says. He unzips his sweater, hands it to Chris, and reaches for the hem of his own t-shirt. It’s going to be small on Buck, he knows that, but it won’t be the first time that Buck’s needed to borrow a shirt and he knows it’ll fit him.

It might look a little too good, judging by the way the woman with the microphone is eyeing Buck after he slips it on.

“You’re the best, Eddie,” Buck says. He waits until Chris hands Eddie back the sweater, then snatches the kid up and hugs him tight. “You know I’m doing this for you, buddy, right? You won’t be too disappointed if I don’t make it to the end?”

Chris rests his hand against Buck’s cheek. “I’m never disappointed in you, Buck.”

Buck’s eyes are bright when he sets Chris down. “Best kid ever, Eddie, I swear,” he says, smiling softly, and Eddie smiles right back at him. Like an idiot. He can’t stop. Jesus Christ, did Buck _always_ look at him like this? How blind has Eddie been that his son could see it and he couldn’t?

“Bucky,” Chris says, shaking his arm. His jacket is off now, displaying his specially designed t-shirt in all it’s glory. Chris, who had agonized for weeks about what ninja nickname to give Buck, had gotten so frustrated over not liking any of them that he’d whined, “it’s just--it’s just _Buck_ , Buck is my warrior,” and Eddie had decided that was good enough and ordered a t-shirt for him. He’d gotten one for the whole crew as a surprise, but they wouldn’t get theirs until after the filming. 

“Chris,” Buck breathes out. “Wow. _Thank you_ , wow.”

It’s not until Buck walks away after his name is called that Eddie remembers that the new shirts Bobby ordered them have their last names on the back. And as he watches Buck walk away, _Diaz_ emblazoned in between in shoulder blades, Eddie has a lot of thoughts about that, but the loudest one is just _yes_.

Buck makes it to the end. 

Of course he does. 

Christopher all but throws himself at Buck when he climbs down the warp wall and bounces over to where they’re standing for an interview. His son’s head rests on Buck’s shoulder as Buck explains to the host why he’s chosen the Cerebral Palsy Foundation as his charity. 

Eddie watches Buck’s eyes light up as he talks about Christopher.

He watches how Buck’s fingers gently scratch the back of Christopher’s neck.

He watches how the look on Christopher’s face is more and more content with each passing second and he thinks to himself for the love of _God_ do not kiss this man for the first time on national television. 

He doesn’t. But when Buck thanks the host and turns towards him, pulling him in for a crushing hug, Eddie does exhale “I love you” into his ear. He thinks Buck might not hear it because of the noise around them, but judging by the way he freezes, he does.

“Really?” he whispers.

“Really,” Christopher answers, before Eddie has a chance to say anything. “Like, a lot, Buck. It’s kind of gross.”

The helpless shake of Buck’s laughter against his body is the whole thing that Eddie ever wants to feel again. 

**Author's Note:**

> [prompt me on tumblr](https://hearteyesforbuck.tumblr.com/ask) or follow [hearteyesforbuck](https://hearteyesforbuck.tumblr.com/)


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